


Derailed

by Marguerite



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Challenge Response
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-28
Updated: 2009-03-28
Packaged: 2019-05-30 17:17:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15101378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marguerite/pseuds/Marguerite
Summary: Everything's stranger on a train.





	Derailed

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

  
Author's notes: Scriptorium Improv fic - elements listed at end.  


* * *

"When the weather's so bad that Air Force One can't take off, don't you think it's a sign that we should stay home?"

Toby asked the plaintive question of CJ as they shared a taxi to Union Station CJ took off her reading glasses and smirked at him as she replied.

"Would you want to go up in an airplane while visibility is zero? Just relax. Traveling by rail is a wonderful experience. Where's your sense of adventure?"

"At home, under the covers, with a hot cup of coffee and three newspapers." Toby grimaced as he looked out the rain-splattered window at the dark, forbidding sky. "Air Force One can't get us there, yet we still have to go."

"Yes, we do, because if the weather clears then the President will go ahead and meet us there. If not, then we'll stand in as the heart and soul of the Bartlet campaign. I'll be the spokesperson and you and Sam will be responsible for the spoking."

"CJ?"

"Yeah?"

"It's not a word, 'spoking.' Just thought you'd need to know that before you get up and represent us."

"Your mood really does get worse along with the weather. You're Barometer!Boy, you know that?"

Toby blinked at her a few times and made a low humming sound, then closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. He was almost happy not to have to deal with the bounces and jolts of air travel on a stormy day, but the thought of spending hours on commuter rail did a lot to dampen what little enthusiasm he could muster.

When they arrived at the station CJ wrinkled her nose at the distance they'd have to walk to the entrance. She shouldered her belongings and Toby did the same. He nudged her with his elbow, indicating that he'd walk on the curb side whether she rolled her eyes at him or not.

The woman coming toward them radiated weariness. A tow-headed baby screamed from the harness on the mother's chest. Her hands were laden with duffel bags and diaper bags, and a toddler, a blond boy of about four, was running around her in circles. He shot imaginary guns at passers-by, jostling his mother and the multiple bags she carried.

"Jason, I'm going to put you in time-out," the woman mumbled, but the boy she called Jason didn't seem at all concerned about a threat that appeared to have been both vague and without substance. The child ricocheted around a few more passengers before landing squarely in front of CJ's feet.

In slow motion, Toby saw CJ stumble, saw himself reaching out for her, saw his arms go around her.

Saw his laptop case go flying into a foot-deep mud puddle.

Saw stars as he and CJ collided heavily with the wet pavement.

Jason, who lay nose-to-nose with Toby, began to howl. Toby ignored him, helping CJ to her feet before plucking his laptop out of the muck. He heard the woman cooing to the little boy. "It's okay, honey. They're just mean people who don't like children."

"I do like children," Toby commented sotto voce. "Lightly broiled, with a side of polenta."

CJ snickered. The woman gathered her children closer and huffed as she sped away. "You okay?" Toby asked.

"I'm fine, just a little soggy. You?"

"About the same. I suspect that this," he said with a grimace, holding the case as far away from himself as he could, "is a dead loss, but Sam will have his and we'll work off that one."

They were met at the door by a uniformed steward. "Mr. Ziegler, Ms. Cregg, I'm Donald Lewis and I'll be taking care of your group this morning. We put the press in one car and closed off another one for your party. It's got a makeshift desk and some chairs, and I'm assigning a steward to you in case there's anything you need."

"Thank you," CJ said, brushing the mud from her coat before walking into the terminal. "We've had a little bit of a rocky start."

"I can see that," Donald said sympathetically. "I'll find someone to get your coats as clean as possible before you get to Providence. Mr. Seaborn's already aboard and he's waiting for you." He led them to their platform and opened the door for them.

"You'll be on board?" CJ asked.

"Unfortunately, no, but I'll send your coats up front and someone will bring them back to you before you reach Providence. Have a pleasant trip - it's an honor to have you traveling with us."

With a nod of thanks Toby followed CJ into the car. They found Sam sitting at the desk, typing in a steady rhythm, his glasses making a gradual descent toward the end of his nose. "Hey," he said without missing a keystroke.

"Hi. Got everything under control?" CJ inquired.

"I think so." He paused to push his glasses back up, then leaned backwards in his seat. "You two are a bit of a mess."

"Why thank you, Sam, you're the soul of gentility," CJ muttered. She set her overnight bag down on the pair of seats opposite Sam and began to rummage through it. "I'll go freshen up. You two, get this thing finished as soon as possible, would you?"

"Wouldn't you rather wait until we actually set foot in Rhode Island? Wouldn't you prefer it if we handed you the speech hot off the presses, with the ink still wet?" Toby asked as he settled down next to Sam and looked over his shoulder. "Speaking of ink, how are we printing this thing once we get to Providence?"

"Portable. Got it in my extra bag, and as backup I had Ginger call the hotel to confirm that we can use whatever facilities they have available."

"See?" Toby held his hands up in the air. "Sam has everything under control."

"We'll see how long it lasts," CJ grumbled as she headed toward a restroom.

Toby sighed as he opened his laptop case and found his computer covered with splotches of mud. "I should just carry this right out in the open for all the good the case does," he complained.

"See if it starts," Sam supplied helpfully as he began typing again.

The computer gave an unhappy wheeze but the screen began to glow. Toby wiped off a streak of mud and put his finger on the trackpad.

Nothing happened.

"It's dead," Toby grunted.

"It's on," Sam replied, not really looking at the item in question.

"It's a ghost of its former self." Toby's voice rose as the keys refused to do anything when he poked at them. "I don't believe this."

Sam finally turned and glanced at the computer. "It's not a crisis. Just give me the disk. I'll type, and you can kibbutz."

"That's kibbitz, Sam. A kibbutz is a commune."

"Well, this is a communal effort."

"Do the windows on this train open, or are they just ornamental?"

"I'll just type, then."

After giving Sam a murderous glare, Toby started fishing through his pockets for the zip disk. "Here."

"Thanks." Sam inserted it into the drive, then stopped and stared at the screen. "It says it can't read the disk."

"What the hell...?" Toby looked at the glowing screen, then leaned forward to check the front of Sam's laptop. "You brought the Dell?"

"It's what I've been using. The keyboard is more ergonomic."

"Sam, I have a G4. This disk is for a Mac. You knew I was bringing the G4."

"I didn't know you were gonna send it in for a mud bath!"

The men glared at each other for a few moments in cold, contemplative silence before Sam spoke up. "You know what we should do?" he asked.

"Put Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, and a tiger in a small room and see who survives?"

"No. We should just start trying to remember what we had and reconstruct it. I can take dictation. It'll be off the cuff, but with a certain internal structure..."

"Fine." Toby closed his eyes, trying to recreate the document in his mind. "Okay, here we go."

***

"How's it going?"

CJ's question was greeted with irritated glances.

"Not so well," Sam's voice was quiet yet it still managed to convey strain and distress. "We have a compatibility problem. Not that kind," he put in quickly when CJ raised an eyebrow at him.

"Plus, the damn cell phone...there it goes again!" Toby opened the device and bellowed something that could loosely be construed as "hello." He scowled, then folded the phone up and tossed it on the table. "Every three minutes. There's no one on the other end."

"Well, someone's on the other end," CJ said mildly, "or else you wouldn't be getting the calls."

"Sprint PCS sucks," Toby declared before turning his attention back to Sam. "That's close, but it's not quite what I had on the disk."

"If you'd tell me what you had--"

"If you'd brought a computer that matched mine--"

"Guys," CJ interrupted. "Take ten, would you?"

Toby got up and stretched, wincing as his back popped. "I'm going to get some coffee," he said.

"We have a guy," CJ told him.

"I need to stretch my legs, maybe throw my laptop overboard." He glared at the offending computer. "Or else I can take it with me and try to swill some of the crap out from between the keys. I'll be back."

On the way out he encountered the steward. "I know this is...weird. But we're on a deadline and I need a laptop like this one. A Mac." He pointed to the computer. "Could you see if you can find one, or borrow one from someone in the press car, whatever?"

The steward nodded and headed toward the front of the train. Toby went into the men's room and spent several futile minutes trying to use the edge of a paper towel to get between the keys. Logic prevailed and he gave up, got a cup of coffee, and returned to his own car.

CJ was folding up the cell phone, staring at it with malevolence in her eyes. "God, it rings and rings and rings but no one's there! It's driving me insane!"

"Told you," Toby said.

"Did you get it to work?" Sam asked. He had stopped typing and was taking a bite out of a large red apple.

"I doubt it. You brought lunch?"

"No, I wanted to ask the steward for coffee but he was gone, so CJ and I went to find some. When we came back, this was on the desk."

Toby began to say that the situation was weird but thought better of it. He and Sam went back to work, CJ fielding the mystery phone calls every few minutes until she finally gave up and removed the battery. "I dare one of you to make a comment."

No one did. Toby kept his eyes closed, trying to remember more of the speech, while Sam typed in hiccoughing bursts.

"Oh," Sam said, sounding discouraged. "Damn. My battery's almost out. CJ, can you get the adaptor out of the bag, please?"

"And plug it into what, exactly?" she asked, indicating the lack of electrical outlets. "Don't you have a spare battery?"

"I gave mine to Katie - hers was dead when she got on the train."

"Well, get it back from her," Toby said, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"I can't."

"Why the hell not?"

"It'd be...rude," Sam answered.

CJ, moaning, stood up and started pacing around the car, blowing puffs of air on the surface of her coffee to cool it. "How much ruder would it be if we got to Providence, got to the hotel, got to the ballroom, and handed the President a big folder full of...nothing?"

"Fair point," Sam sighed, and he got up from his chair just in time to collide with CJ, whose coffee spilled all over the front of his pants.

Sam let out a yelp of pain. CJ reached for him with a napkin but he lurched backwards, pushing her away. "Do NOT rub that...on...ow." He put his hands in his pockets and pushed the fabric away from himself, shuffling his feet.

"Katie will be unable to resist your charms," Toby said as CJ handed Sam all the napkins she could find. "I'll go get the damn battery. CJ, come with me."

"What for?" CJ asked, then stopped herself from commenting further when she noticed that Sam was preparing to dab at the front of his trousers. "Right. Leaving. Now."

Toby, CJ, and the Mac collided with the steward. "I really, really need one of these," Toby said, indicating his laptop.

"I get, sir. I get." The man headed toward the front of the train while Toby prepared to charm Katie out of Sam's spare battery.

***

Ten minutes, a promise of a one-on-one sit-down with the President, and the telephone number of CJ's manicurist later, Toby and CJ returned to their car and found Sam feeding an apple to a little girl who was cuddled next to him. 

"Sam?" CJ and Toby asked in unison.

"Ah. Yes. This is Amanda. Tell them how old you are, Amanda."

"I'm five and a half," said the little girl, her brown curls bouncing as she chewed and swallowed vigorously.

"And who do you belong to, honey?" CJ asked, sitting on her heels and smiling sweetly at the child.

"To my friend, Sam," she answered. "Can I have some more apple, Sam?" 

"May I?"

She giggled, showing a row of tiny white teeth. "May I have some more apple?"

"Yes, you may." Sam held the fruit in front of Amanda, who took a huge bite that grazed the side of Sam's thumb. "Ow, careful!"

"Sam, what are you doing?" Toby inquired, scratching his eyebrow with his thumbnail.

"I went to the bathroom and when I came back, she was sitting under the desk. She said I was 'it,' so I gave her some of my apple."

"And some of your fingerprints, too, if you're not careful. Why are you feeding her?"

"She was under my desk! What was I supposed to do?"

"Find her mother, maybe," Toby suggested. "Certainly not give food to a stranger's child - and where the hell did the apple come from?"

"You shouldn't say the h-word," Amanda informed him after licking her fingertips. "Mommy makes Daddy put a dollar in the swear jar when he says that."

"We should do that. What a way to pay down the budget deficit," CJ said, grinning.

"Josh would be in the hole before noon." Sam chuckled at his own little joke.

CJ offered her hand to the little girl. "Come on, Amanda, let's go find your mommy."

"Okay. 'Bye!" Amanda chirped. She held her arms up to give a hug to Sam, then reached toward Toby, but her dark eyes got very round and she backed away, standing next to CJ with a frightened pout. Slowly she gave her sticky little hand to CJ, who shot a dirty look at Toby as she exited.

"What was that for?" Toby asked.

"You frightened her."

"How? I was just standing here!"

"Well, that's usually enough. Got the battery?"

"Right here. Let's go..." Toby's voice trailed off as he saw the steward again. "Sir?"

Everything in the man's posture demonstrated how difficult it was for him to avoid saying something unkind. He sighed. "I bring. I bring two, and I bring another one, and here are two." He produced a pair of apples from his pocket and presented them to Toby with a flourish.

Toby stared at the apples, then at Sam, then at the steward. "What...?"

The steward walked up to Toby and put his finger on the laptop's white logo. "You want? I bring."

"An...apple."

"Yes, sir. How many, you tell me, I bring."

Sam turned away and took off his glasses. His shoulders were shaking. Toby, beaten, managed a smile as he reached into his pocket and took out a ten-dollar bill. "We're fine. Here. And thank you for the apples," he said as he pressed the money into the steward's palm.

"I thank you, sir. You want more? I get you more."

"No, thank you. We have...enough. Apples. Thank you."

Sam could hardly contain himself any longer, bursting into loud snorting laughter the instant the steward was out of earshot. "He got...you...an...apple..."

"Which you ate. And another one, which you gave to a stranger. So shut up and finish the speech." Toby pocketed one apple and took a large, crunchy bite of the other, chewing with his mouth open because he knew it would drive Sam crazy.

***

A very happy steward brought CJ's and Toby's coats back to them, much cleaner than when they had seen them last, as the train pulled into the station in Providence. Sam was napping, curled up in his seat with his suit jacket over his lap, and Toby was looking at the final draft of the speech. It was better than he had expected, amazing, really, when he thought about the circumstances, and his chest puffed up with pride at the thought of CJ reading those majestic words at the hotel in just under an hour.

Their greatest triumphs almost always came on the heels of adversity. "Our greatest triumphs almost always come on the heels of adversity," he informed CJ, who was blotting her lipstick with a Kleenex.

"They do, indeed. We'll get to the hotel, print the thing out, and I'll be ready to give the speech in front of the Mayor and the whole town council." She grinned at him. "You guys never cease to amaze me."

"We never cease to amaze ourselves, either. Come on, Sam," Toby said, poking Sam in the upper arm, "it's time to go kick some ass."

"Yeah, that sounds good," Sam said around a yawn. He combed his hair and put his jacket on, buttoning it carefully to conceal the lingering dampness on his slacks. Toby grabbed both laptops, and with their belongings in hand they prepared to exit their car.

The press car was still full of journalists who looked as if they had no intention of moving any time in the foreseeable future. CJ held her hands out toward the windows. "What?" she shouted.

A few seconds later Mike emerged, his tie loosened, his hands empty. "Didn't you  
get the call?"

"The call?" Sam asked. "What call would that be?"

"One of my friends is the op-ed columnist for the Journal. She called me on my cell and said that the Mayor's son has appendicitis so the event's been cancelled. I gave her your number."

"Our number," Toby said, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.

"Yeah, she said she called about twenty times but couldn't get through, so she tried again once it got closer to our arrival time. She left a message on your voice mail."

"Which we--"

"Haven't checked," Toby said, finishing Sam's sentence. "So we're supposed to go straight back?"

"That's the plan. The train leaves in about ten minutes," Mike said, returning to the press car and closing the door.

Sam looked at his shoes. "I'm gonna go walk around for a few minutes, maybe get something to drink. You guys want anything?"

CJ and Toby shook their heads. "After you," Toby said as he guided CJ with a hand at the small of her back. Silent and more than a little morose, they went back to their car and put their bags on the seats behind the makeshift desk.

Frowning, CJ put a hand to her ear. "Dammit."

"What?"

"I lost an earring. One of the pearl ones my brother gave me for my birthday. Would you look around for a minute?"

Toby stooped over, shaking his head. "I don't see anything. Maybe it's outside."

"No, I see it. Under the desk." CJ had to contort her long limbs to get to the earring, and as she rose, still fidgeting with the clasp, she banged her head on the table.

"There's a table over your head," Toby informed her, smirking at her aggravated expression.

"Ha, ha, ha. You're a riot. Give me a hand, would you?" She let Toby help her up, then they sat side by side, staring glumly ahead. "We wasted this entire day," CJ complained. "We have nothing to show for it."

"Not in the least. I have...this apple." Toby produced one from his pocket. Glancing out of the side of his eye he polished it on CJ's skirt and presented it to her. "Comfort me with apples."

"Just give me the damn thing." CJ snatched it from Toby's hand and bit into it, but her eyes twinkling at him. She held the apple toward him, but instead of taking it from her Toby leaned over and took a bite. Then he moved closer and bit into it again, close to CJ's hand.

"Oh, for the love of--" Sam sputtered as he entered and caught sight of them. "What the hell...?"

Toby smiled at him. "She was under my desk, Sam. What was I supposed to do?"

***  
End  
***  
Elements:  
1\. a daytime train ride in the rain  
2\. Toby and Sam's keyboards stop working in the middle of an important speech  
3\. a phone ringing incessantly but with no one on the other end  
4\. an apple mysteriously appearing on someone's desk  
5\. the dialogue: "She was under my desk! What was I supposed to do?"

The suckage of Sprint PCS brought to you by Ryo's Rants. :)

Feedback would be welcome.


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